Spirits of Pepin Read online

  SPIRITS OF PEPIN

  THE NO ORDINARY WOMEN MYSTERIES

  Murder at Spirit Falls

  Spirited Away

  Forgotten Spirits

  Spirits of Pepin

  SPIRITS OF PEPIN

  A NO ORDINARY WOMEN MYSTERY

  by

  Barbara Deese

  ISBN: 978-1-68201-032-7

  Copyright © 2016 Barbara Deese

  Cover art by Jake Karwoski, Monster of the Midwest, LLC

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  First Edition: September 2016

  Printed in the United States of America

  Published by

  North Star Press of St. Cloud, Inc.

  P.O. Box 451

  St. Cloud, Minnesota 56302

  www.northstarpress.com

  “I believe that these circles of women around us weave invisible nets of love that carry us when we’re weak and sing with us when we’re strong.”

  ~ SARK, Succulent Wild Woman

  (Susan Ariel Rainbow Kennedy)

  1

  Cruising down the highway, windows open, platinum hair blowing every which way, Louise Trenton pretended she was twenty-five again. The radio was tuned to an oldies station, and when the Eagles came on, she cranked up the volume. “Take it easy, take it easy,” they sang as if they knew the messy turn her life was about to take.

  By the time she got to the marina her heart was lighter. It was a hot June morning in the old Minnesota town of Red Wing. The sky was unremittingly blue and a mere whisper of a breeze blew across her sun-warmed face. Nestled between a shiny new sailboat and another cabin cruiser, the Time Out beckoned. The vintage boat, with its newly refinished wood trim, had a classic look, much nicer, she thought, than its modern counterparts.

  She removed the blue mooring cover and began her routine, checking lines, oil and fuel levels and making sure electronics and engine were in working order. She heard the racket and lifted her head. The rest of the No Ordinary Women book club had arrived in two cars, Robin and Grace from Minneapolis, Cate and Foxy from Saint Paul. Meeting them on the weathered dock, she helped them haul a ridiculous amount of gear to the boat.

  Once the coolers, grocery bags, canvas totes, and small luggage were on board, Louise removed her oversized sunglasses, positioned them on top of her head and drawled, “Okay, let’s go through a few safety warnings. Don’t take it personally. I swear it has nothing to do with our history of rushing into things headlong.”

  Grinning as if she’d been dealt a compliment, Grace turned and tripped over Robin’s foot. “Headlong? Us?” she said when she’d recovered her balance.

  Louise didn’t crack a smile. As reluctant as she was to dampen their enthusiasm, she didn’t want some preventable injury spoiling the trip for everyone. “Thank you, Grace, for demonstrating what not to do.”

  Grace stood tall. “Hey, if I have nothing else to offer, at least let me serve as a bad example.”

  Louise chuckled along with the others. “What I was about to say is, with all the cleats and uneven wood, you have to watch where you’re going. Just think of marinas and boats as accidents waiting to happen.” She resumed her boating orientation by opening a locker under the bench. “Listen up. If anything goes wrong, the first thing you do is put on one of these.” She reached into the locker, pulled out an orange Mae West vest and demonstrated how to buckle it before stowing it again.

  They traipsed below deck, where Louise introduced them to the salon, the berths, and the head, making sure they knew the proper boat terms. In the galley they loaded items into the small refrigerator and Louise showed them where to find such essentials as the fire extinguisher, wine glasses, and corkscrew.

  Returning topside, they got a detailed tutorial on leaving the dock. “The idea is to get the boat out without damaging anything, animate or inanimate,” Louise told them. When they were finally ready to take off, Cate and Robin detached lines and coiled them on the deck, as instructed, and Foxy and Grace pulled up and stowed the fenders. Louise took the helm seat. Her friends settled on cushions behind her. Backing into the channel, she finessed the cabin cruiser past fingers of docks in the Ole Miss Marina and out into the Mississippi River, heading toward Wabasha.

  Despite their almost giddy mood, Louise’s mind kept flashing on the situation awaiting her at the end of this getaway. Her father had been slowly but inexorably losing his ability to function. Now that things had reached a crisis point, she and Dean needed to figure out new arrangements for him. Her father, a man used to giving orders, was not about to take direction from his daughter, making it a tough couple of weeks. Dean had insisted she keep her weekend plans with friends. The inevitable and unpleasant battle over her father’s welfare could wait for a few more days.

  They cruised at a leisurely rate for a while, then, one by one, Louise invited them to try their hand at the helm. Alone among them, Foxy, with her reddish mane knotted on the top of her head, demonstrated a real instinct for operating the throttle and wheel and correcting for wind and current.

  By late morning they were passing the quaint little shops of Stockholm on the Wisconsin side of Lake Pepin, the name given to this wide, thirty-mile-long stretch of the Mississippi. Founded by Swedish immigrants in the mid-1800s, the village now had a thriving artists’ community. Unfortunately, because there was no public dock, they couldn’t stop. Snacking on fruit and cheese, they drifted lazily toward the town of Pepin, which they planned to explore on foot. On the hills to their left, trees were swaying. Louise noticed the increasing wind too late, and made a grab for her straw boater hat. It lifted off her head, went airborne and skittered across the water’s surface. “Dang it all! I loved that hat!” Louise’s southern accent was more pronounced than usual.

  “Me too. You looked very Great Gatsby in it,” Grace said.

  “You’ve got the right era.” Louise watched her hat sink out of sight.

  “I suppose it was from your shop.”

  “Naturally. Antiques for an antique.” Louise and Dean owned an antique shop in Minneapolis named Past Tense. With her flair for vintage fashion, Louise often sported a hat or brooch or ring from their inventory. For years, Past Tense had defined their lives, then one day when Dean was gathering up paperwork for their accountant, he turned to Louise and said, “Tense is the only part of this business I’m feeling right now.” That’s when they decided to buy the boat and started spending less time in the shop. They began grooming their assistant to take over permanently when they were ready to sell the business.

  Robin refilled their plastic cups with lemonade. With her pale complexion and hair, she tried to stay in the shady corner of the bench. For the third time that day she commented on how peaceful it was on the water.

  Louise said, “If we’d had to call off another weekend, I was fixing to put the boat up for sale.” She laughed to let them know she wasn’t serious. However, between bad weather and engine problems, scheduling time on the boat had been problematic.

  Swiping a long strand of hair off her face, Cate lifted her cup. “To our fearless and peerless captain.” There was a muffled plastic thunk when they touched glasses.

  With a broad smile, Robin proposed a second toast. “May this be the first of many adventures aboard the good ship Time Out.”

  “Adventures?” Grace paused with her drink in the air. “Robin, did you just wish for more adventures? Is that really wise?”

  Robin lowered her sunglasses on her nose. “Oh, come on, Gracie! We all saw how you channeled your inner Nancy
Drew when—”

  Grace objected. “Hey! It wasn’t just me. I had plenty of company snooping around, if you remember.”

  Robin looked pointedly at Foxy, whose leg had been badly broken in their most recent escapade. It still ached at times when the weather was damp or cold, Foxy had told them, or if she stood too long, which had kept her from taking on new massage clients.

  Sipping lemonade and nibbling the last slivers of Wisconsin cheddar and apples, they talked and laughed and watched the boats go by—powerboats, fishing boats, sailboats, tugboats. They were near Pepin, the village that shared a name with the lake, when a flock of raucous seagulls appeared from nowhere and circled the Time Out, demanding a handout. Seeing Foxy about to offer them food, Louise gave a stern shake of her head. “They’ll never leave us alone if you do.” Foxy pulled her hand back. The birds circled her for a while before moving on.

  High overhead, a bald eagle soared. Robin caught its movement and raised the camera hanging around her neck, adjusting settings by feel as she rotated from the waist to pan the bird in flight, clicking as she and the bird moved in sync.

  Leaving Foxy at the wheel, Louise moved to the rail to read the water, which had taken on a slightly darker hue, and though the change was subtle, its surface was more fractured—more indications the wind was picking up. Louise reclaimed her chair so she could turn the radio dial to the weather station. Winds gusting to thirty-five miles an hour were predicted by mid-afternoon, a significant increase from the morning forecast. “If we stop in Pepin, we won’t be on our way again for two or three hours,” she said. “I’m worried we’ll be bucking the wind if we wait too long. Do y’all mind if we just mosey back? That way we can cruise around a bit and duck into the marina if it starts to get dicey.”

  “Our fate is in your hands, Captain,” said Cate.

  And so they made a slow turn, passing on their port side the marina at Lake City where they planned to dock for the night. A little while later Louise pointed to a park and adjacent campground. She was about to give them a history of the area when Robin’s sharp words stopped her.

  “What is that boat doing?” She lowered her camera and pointed to a sailboat ahead of them, its sails flapping in the stiff breeze.

  Louise eased up on the throttle and together they watched the boat’s erratic course, traversing the water in a drunken path, first toward the Wisconsin side, then to the Minnesota side, then downriver until a gust blew it in a different direction.

  “That’s not good,” Louise mumbled to herself. To the others, she said, “See, the reason those sails are flailing around like that is they aren’t filling with wind. It’s called luffing.” She took off her sunglasses and squinted. Unable to see what she wanted, she shoved a pair of binoculars into Grace’s hand. “Can you catch the boat’s name?”

  “Maybe the crew is practicing maneuvers,” Grace suggested, peering through the binoculars. The boat twirled several degrees clockwise. Grace shook her head, unable to catch the name.

  Foxy said, “I’ve heard about boats being overrun by drug runners. They incapacitate or kill the crew and take over—” She stopped when Cate and Robin started giggling.

  Grace snorted. “I don’t think we need to worry about pirates on Lake Pepin, but if I see anyone with an eye patch—”

  “Look.” Louise pointed. “The boom is swinging free. That’s the big bar at the foot of the mainsail, and it should definitely not be doing that. I don’t think anyone’s in control of that sail. It’s been going on way too long for it to be an accidental jibe.

  “Jibe?”

  “Right. When you’re sailing downwind and the wind starts filling the wrong side of the sail, you have to get the sail to the other side of the boat to catch the wind so it can drive your boat.” Louise paused until she saw comprehension on their faces. They were listening intently. “Jibes are regular maneuvers, but it’s those unplanned jibes you have to watch out for.” She wiped sweat from her upper lip. “That’s when you’re not paying attention and the sail suddenly catches a pocket of wind on the wrong side. If that happens, the whole thing can swing by itself. It can happen at lightning speed and you might not have a chance to get out of the way of the boom.” She cast another look at the sailboat. “A good sailor knows never to be in the way when it crosses the center line. A full sail packs a huge wallop.”

  They were exchanging glances as if trying to determine how seriously to take it.

  Louise didn’t like the way the seagulls were flocking around the errant sailboat. “What I’m trying to say is a swinging boom can bash your head in, or even throw you clean out of the boat.”

  2

  Standing with one hand on the rail and peering at the sailboat through her camera’s telephoto lens, Robin said, “Rats, I almost had it. I think it’s—agh! It spun before I caught the name, but I think it starts with a W. Could it be Way-something?”

  Louise bit her lower lip. “Wayward Wind?”

  “Very well named,” said Robin.

  “I know that boat. There aren’t a lot of sailboats out of Red Wing, but that’s one of them. I’m surprised. The owner is a decent sailor.” Louise snatched up the radio and spoke into it. “Wayward Wind, Wayward Wind, this is Time Out. Over.” She waited and repeated the words, adding, “Do you read me?” She told her friends to sit down and hold on, then pushed the throttle forward and turned in the direction of the sailboat.

  The radio crackled and then a male voice, high pitched and nasal, said, “Wayward Wind, Wayward Wind. River Rat here. You need help?”

  The five women held their breath, waiting to hear whether or not this new caller was able to make contact with the incapacitated boat.

  Cate stood and with a jerk of her thumb indicated a houseboat approaching the troubled sailboat from a different angle. “Think that’s the River Rat?”

  Louise watched it before nodding. Into the radio she said, “River Rat, this is Time Out. Can you see anyone at the wheel?”

  “Negative,” he replied.

  “Switching to six-eight.” Louise twisted a dial.

  “Is that a police code or something?” Grace asked.

  Louise was all business. “We were on the distress channel. As soon as you make contact, you’re supposed to switch to a different channel to free it up for emergencies.” She took a look at her inexperienced mates and sighed. On the new working channel she said, “Not sure how close we can get. She keeps changing course. I think someone’ll have to board her.”

  “I’m alone here, so it’s a no go for me,” said the nasal voice. “I dunno, with that boom swingin’ . . .” He cleared his throat. “Keep an eye on her. I’ll put out a call for help.”

  Louise watched as the bow of the Wayward Wind swung again so it now pointed directly at the Time Out. It wasn’t exactly a runaway train hurtling toward them, but even moving slowly, it was several tons of unruly wood and fiberglass and metal that would bounce around until it crashed into something—another boat or the shore. Boaters who weren’t on the radio might not be aware this bumper car with sails was without a captain.

  “Now would be an excellent time to put on your life vests!” Louise said. The others complied hastily and without question. As soon as she’d donned her own, she adjusted the throttle and turned to the long-legged redhead. “Think you can steer this for a bit, Foxy?”

  Foxy puffed out her cheeks. “I guess we’ll find out.” She looked less than confident as she wedged herself into the helm seat.

  “Try to get us a little closer.” Louise observed how she maneuvered the vessel and nodded approval. “Okay now, try to keep enough distance so that the other boat won’t veer into us.” Turning to address them all, Louise explained she was going out in the dinghy—the smaller boat used as a tender by larger vessels—to try attaching a line to the Wayward Wind. “I need one of you to come with me.”

  “I’ll go.” Robin was on her feet. She helped Louise untether the dinghy and held onto the line.

  Thinking
through the next steps, Louise grimaced. “This won’t be easy with the wind, and I will never hear the end of it if I damage our boat.” The tip of her tongue poked from between her lips as she thought. After a short moment, she hauled a thick nylon towrope out of its locker, surprised at its weight as she slung the loops over her shoulder and stepped down into the waiting dinghy. When Robin had settled in the bow of the little boat, Louise started the engine and they hooked around, heading for the sailboat.

  Foxy’s job was to hold the Time Out in close but not too close proximity. Grace and Cate, the remaining crew, could do nothing but watch.

  As soon as they were almost directly under the front end of the Wayward Wind, Louise adjusted the dinghy’s angle and gave the engine a little shot in reverse. Both boats dipped, unfortunately not in sync. “Okay, give it a try,” she called over the idling motor.

  The first time Robin tried to stand, the wake from a passing speedboat rocked their little vessel, throwing her off balance and pitching her back hard against the molded plastic seat. When she stood again, she took Louise’s advice and flexed her knees to better adjust to the rocking motion.

  Finally Robin stretched to her full height and made a grab for the large metal loop at the tip of the jutting prow. On the sixth try, she caught hold and hung on, even when the larger boat nearly lifted her off her feet. With a length of the towrope draped over her shoulder, she rode the wake caused by yet another passing speedboat and waited for an upswing. When it came, she timed it just right and threaded the line through. Raising her fist in triumph, she wobbled and fell back again, wincing as her tailbone smacked against the thwart.

  Louise pulled, testing the knot. It held. Then, instead of returning to the mother ship as planned, she left the towrope secured to both vessels and turned the dinghy toward the other end of the sailboat, hugging the side until they were behind the Wayward Wind.